Rhongo-San: Diary Buddies
by Lad Lad
Summary: Entry 1: Master has given me this journal to chronicle past events. It is not an unwelcome item. The issues with my memory faltering and failing me are inconsistent, therefore this item is useful. I shall be sure to record all pertinent information in my day-to-day life in Chaldea as the Alter Ego Goddess of Rhongoymniad.
1. Chapter 1

Entry 1

The dawn of a new day approaches. As always, the sun does little to calm my nerves. Though the monotony of my actions (not previously stated, my routine includes a silent patrol through one of the sunnier areas of Chaldea)

We are to set out upon a "Farming Quest." Leonardo Da Vinci has informed me that this is routine. An "in and out" mission wherein we scavenge the small Singularity for it's resources and destabilise it's source. I am capable of respecting the discipline displayed by the usually unruly allies I have obtained.

My allies are Merlin and a boy with a red cloak known as Waver. I know not his identity as a Heroic Spirit. They commune when they believe me resting, whispering tales. I feel this is natural. A wise, silly white-haired man with stave eagerly spinning a tale to a young one all to ready to listen.

There are limited pages. Useless information shall be kept to a minimum.

Entry 2

As expected, the discipline and tactical planning of both the former Grand Caster (as well as additional Caster) and the Master have allowed our victory. I expected little else from a being who had managed to summon an existence as conceptual as I.

I occasionally catch Merlin gazing at me with sombre eyes. If I recall correctly, he and I once knew each other.

That knowledge affects me little.

I am glad the incubus was capable of setting aside personal feelings for the battle. However I feel the other Knights (I was informed at length of their presence) may not be able to do the same.

This could be a tactical disadvantage. I will mention it to Master if I have the time.

Entry 3

I have been informed that tasting the delicacies prepared in the Cafeteria is a relevant avenue to pursue. To build connections between my would-be allies. This logic is sound. I am currently consuming a dish provided for me by a tanned man with white hair. He, like the once-grand Caster, looks at me with eyes of sorrow and regret. I recollect no mentions of a dark-skinned Knight of the Round.

I sat alone and consumed my meal alone.

The idle chatter of the cafeteria allowed me to think pleasantly. My skills allow for incredibly fast charging. With both Merlin and a secondary Caster to charge Rhongomyniad, I am capable of using my Noble Phantasm three times in quick succession. The Master has acknowledged this but implies that I should wait until I am attuned to the mana I am provided before I use such a mana-intensive ability so many times in such a short period.

The logic is sound. Therefore I shall accept it.

None of the conversations around myself seemed to be able to catch my interest. It was strange. These are warriors. Creatures, entities and beings beyond human. And yet they discuss such mundane matters.

It is an entertaining thing to hear, however briefly it might be so.

Nothing more of relevance.

Entry 4

Master seems to have been informed that I made no attempt to close the tangible gap between myself and the other Heroic Spirits. I reasoned that such a thing was unnecessary. Our goals are aligned therefore trust is not an issue. They mention that I have not proven myself trustworthy yet. That is not unsound.

I shall endeavour to work harder.

Entry 5

I have been informed that a demonic curse has beget one of our allies, and that the purifying aura of Rhongomyniad shall assist.

I was directed to the medical office, where "Florence Nightingale" (of relevance. she shares our cadence, and likely our passion for logical maneuvres. a possible avenue regarding cooperation?) informed me that I was to act upon a dark-skinned shaved Heroic Spirit.

Of notice is that Nightingale was surprised by the operation. It is of note that Rhongomyniad is a spear, therefore it's purifying effects are intended for use against a demon. As such, an attack was the only way to purify it.

Nightingale was interestingly cooperative in these matters. I am glad. The frailties of mortal emotion are difficult to deal with.

I dislike crying.

Entry 6

I know not what day it is. However that is not the topic of this entry. Being regarded with sad eyes is strange, but luckily I found one who regarded me little to none at all. He, like I, scribbled in a diary that which he wanted to remember. I opened dialogue with him (I later questioned the Master, to find this man was a Counter Guardian, a position... one I do not find a man such as he would be keen on. His eyes are far too sad. Too weary.)

I was unaware cooks could hold so much steel in the eye, moreso than even my most trusted of knights. A testament either to their skill or their legend surely. Art is forged in the fire of adversity, and that person's sustenance is an art form unlike any I have laid eyes upon.

Irregardless the Alter and I briefly discussed things with one another.

The Master has taken notice however has yet to ask.

Entry 7

The Master has asked me if I would become "a 'Diary Buddy.'" with the Altered counter guardian. I am not opposed. Besides, it is a.. not uncomfortable title. I shall wear it with pride.

I have chosen to sit near him whenever the Master reminds me to return to the cafeteria (I have discovered anew a benefit to my memory faltering- being able to experience my highest form of joy multiple times. I am told that eating is when I am nearest to a smile.), an action that does not seem to be minded.

He questioned my reason to occupy the space near him. I informed him that it was because he is sufficient company. That reason has satisfied him.

.. With company, the food tastes sweeter. An interesting phenomenon.

Entry 8

I have made contact with the altered Saber class form of myself. She implied distaste with my ideals, that I would choose to sacrifice humanity's will to save it in a fleeting manner.

I admit. With complete impartiality (as I do not remember any of the events mentioned by this iteration of myself) an alternative seems far more appeasing. However I can understand the logic in preserving humanity in it's purest state.

Even besides that, my altered self (of which for convenience's sake shall be referred to, shorthand, as Saber Alter.) seemed quite displeased with me. A comment on it might have lead to vocal discourse, of which would have certainly led my routine astray. Therefore I let the conversation die and moved on.

Entry 9

I find myself uneasy. The Master has had myself and a Berserker, Asterios, investigate the lower levels of Chaldea. Rubble has closed off a section of the maintenance level. Unfortunate. I managed to find three survivors. The rest..

Asterios is, I believe, a teenager. He has little need of seeing such things. It would only serve to demoralize him, therefore create an unnecessary variable..

The feeling of weak flesh giving way to my strength.

It makes me uneasy.

Entry 10

After a shift rotation with Mash Kyrielight clearing out some of the rubble, old and new (A Demi-Servant with a passive Noble Phantasm, one that seemed to inspire maternal instincts if Boudica's actions were not the exception.) I roamed the halls and I found one of my favourite knights, Mordred, wandering the halls, sniffling sadly.

I questioned the boy, and he acted surprised. How strange. However brief he was my knight. Tis only natural I care a great deal for his wellbeing. He implied that, during a game of hide and seek, his father had left him alone to roam.

He refuses to disclose the identity of his father. Strangely I feel as if it beckons me, like honeyed words of a trickster. However still, I shall acquire his name.

Seeing the gallant Mordred, sniffling like a boy who had been scolded..

fills me with disgust at this so-called 'father.'"

(Chapter End)


	2. Regarding The Divine (Cont)

Entry #1 Scheduled sparring with Jeanne Alter today at 13:00. Duel lasted from 13:00 to 13:30. Suffered minor burns on left arm and cut wounds on right arm, although nothing that impairs movement. Her Noble Phantasm remains as dangerous as ever - heavier firepower will be necessary in future confrontations. However, that possibility seems unlikely, given her stated disappointment in my lack of emotion. Likely due to her summoned class being Avenger, Jeanne Alter believes that resentment is what makes an Alter. It is unfortunate that there is nothing I can do to change this mindset. A weapon needn't have feelings. It is there to kill. I am here to fulfill my mission, nothing else.

Entry #2 Contact with the Divine Spirit inhabiting an adult form of Artoria Pendragon. It seems as though this being prefers the name Goddess Rhongomyniad. I will refer to it as Rhongomyniad from here on out. It appears to write carefully and often in a diary. Upon questioning, she has stated that it is because of memory loss. How peculiar. She attempted to continue conversating, but I refuse to acknowledge one who looks at me with such pitying eyes. I already receive enough of that from the heroes. Such people never seem to realize how irritating such affectations are for their recipients.

[05:01]

Entry #3 Artoria Pendragon of the Saber class (the original, henceforth referred to as Artoria (original)) sought me out after my return from the latest mission. This is a definite departure from her usual approach, which involves pitying me from a distance. I despise it. Both Artoria (original) and Rhongomyniad alike. Though they may be different entities, the way they look at me is the same. Green eyes the color of emeralds. Where have I seen them before?

Entry #[REDACTED] (It appears to be scribbled out.) I remember. Waking the instant Saber left me. She's bathed in that golden light, a smile, her face softening. She's always gone before I can say goodbye. There are too many things to tell her back then, when she left. Too many things left unsaid. "I love you." "I miss you." "Please don't go." But most importantly, "Will this pain stop?"

[05:02]

Entry #4 I will not play wench in the kitchen.

Entry #5 Sitonai. An Alter Ego pseudo-Servant comprising of the Nordic goddess of love Freyja, the Finnish witch Louhi, and the girl from Ainu legend, Sitonai. Her chosen form takes the shape of an Einzbern homunculus. She gazes at me with familiar, yet sad eyes. Her vessel may perhaps know me from somewhere else. I have no recollection of a girl with red eyes and white hair.

Entry #6 Master seems to believe that I should "try and get along with the other Servants", or so he said. I reasoned that the only reason I was summoned was in order to carry out my mission, so trust between comrades will not be necessary unless he plans to keep us together over long periods of time. After I said this, however, he seemed to appear downtrodden.

Entry #7 Master seems to have a proposition. He had noticed that my interactions with Rhongomyniad were somewhat friendly. In accordance, he has asked me to become a 'Diary Buddy' with the Divine Spirit. That may be helpful for cross-checking past events, as my memory is spotty at best. I find this compromise to be beneficial for the both of us. Rhongomyniad continues to interact with me. I find that her company is not the most disagreeable. After questioning why she had chosen to sit next to me during lunch time, she had replied that she found my company sufficient. It appears as though the feeling is mutual.

[05:02]

Entry #[REDACTED] (It appears to be scribbled out.) Dreams of gold and blue and clashing swords continue to come, all the same. Saber is still fading, still vanishing. Her last words are an "I love you." So do I. How long do I wait? When does remembering become forgetting? I no longer know what to do with my hands. There is too much time and I do not know how to fill it. There is only myself and this empty portion of time.


	3. INTERLUDE: Motherly Love

**A/N: my apologies if anyone notices the doublepost, i accidentally updated it with the wrong thing. **

Entry 32.

Mother is displeased. She, as Little Kingu thought (what a silly boy. He occasionally thinks strange thoughts, images of Ninsun's boy.. perhaps she should arrange a playdate. But the heavens are so terribly far from her.. maybe if Ishtar decides to visit, she can have her ask.) decided to keep a diary.

She finds it strange that beloved Kingu decided to mask her as little Ana, but she believes his plan might be quite fun for everyone else. A very fun prank! Mother does not often get to see those.

Kingu is such a lovely boy. She wishes she were a bit smaller, so she could pat his head without hurting him.. that would be nice, she thinks.

Entry a##]##-

Mother's voice is a bit hoarse. Little Ana is distressed, down below the Underworld.

Mother wishes she could help, but it seems Little Ana wants to be left alone to her thoughts.. Always such a resilient child. Mother thinks she and Ninsun's boy might not get along too well..

That might be because Ninsun's boy dislikes snakes. Mother does not understand. Snakes are soft, and smooth. When Mother was smaller, she often rested next to the creatures, big or small!

... Mother thinks that may be personal bias.

Oh well. She would see Uruk soon. Then her little ones get to play. They always did like Mother's stories about humans. She hopes they and Kingu can get along. Mother believes that within families some of the children try to seek their parent's attention, like Mother's beloved up in the sky (she wishes they would visit. It is quite dark in the abyss. so lonely. nobody to speak to. nobody to hold. nobody to hug. nobody to call one's name in pure love. nobody. why. why. why whyw why whywhywywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

Mother is tired. She will rest. Then she will rise.

Entry ()(()))()()()()*(()

Mother's lovely Lahmu are awake. They are playing with the little humans. She notices that they are playing a bit rough. That is okay. Mother thinks that is fine. It can be forgiven, because they are young.

Mother has taken her small form upon the lake. The lake is growing. Mother thinks it might flood, but it is okay.

All will be okay.

Everything.

Entry s̸̢͓̝̬̦̞̫̣̪̖͇̼̒̓͐̄͋͑̍̎̇͗̊̈́͒͊̚͘͠y̸̠͙̟̪̭̖̥̐̈́͑̓̏̍͌͜h̶̡̩͉͎͇̳̤͎̫̮̲̝̠̣̠̲̟͔͔͛̀͆̏͌̑͌̒́̕͠ͅå̸̢̢̦̤̩̫͙̬̩̰̮̃̐͛̂́̇̈́̅̇̏̿̌͗͛̋̅̚͠'̵̣͉͔̗̠̮̫̪̹̘̯̟̦̙̻͍͎̼̲̌̍̾͜͠ḩ̵̡̖͚̺̟͕͙̘͉̪͍̺̗̼̳̜͉̖̺̽͋̽̑̚͝ͅ

It hurts quite a bit. Mother thinks that is bad. Hurting. People should not.. Hurt. That is bad.

Oh.. Ishtar is here. Hm. She seems to be using her ability. What did she call it? An.. An Gal… Mother believes the name should be short

Hurting.  
HUrt

HURt

HURt HURT HURT HURT HURT HURT HURT

HURt HURT HURT HURT HURT HURT HURT  
Hurts HUrTS HURTS HURT HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS

HURTS  
HURTS  
WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY

WHYWhYWHYWhyWHyWhyWhyWhywhywhywhywhywhwhwhwhwwwww

Entry l̶̨̽̔̉͜ͅi̵̡̭̤͖̹̓̐̇̈̎

Mother is angry.

So, so angry. It hurts a lot. She had to move her body. Her head hurts even more. Now the tides are crashing into Ninsun's boy's little toy city. Mother is furious.

Mother needs to give Ishtar some discipline.

Mother moves still. But what is that? A comet. Why is it here? There weren't any..

That is not a comet.

It's beginning to hurt again.

Entry 17.

Mother has taken flight. After the not-comet, it is best to do so.

The creature-comet returns once more.. It hurt Mother so much. What could it possibly want now?

Hmmmm.~ The melody of Mother's singing.. Perhaps that will help..

Aaaa….  
Aaaaaaaaa..

AaaAAaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..

… Once again, it hurts.. Why.. ? … Why… ?

Entry 18.

E̶̼̝̤̊̅̌͑̈́̏̀̋̚͜ñ̴̰̭͓̹̹̜̔̋͜͝k̴͕̰͠ǐ̶̧̡̩̠̘̙̳̣̹͓̗̳̞̎͑̇͑̉͑̆͋̈́͜d̸̛̥͚͕̈́̏̇̈́̔̊͗̒͂́̈́͘ů̴̖͝ Kingu has betrayed Mother. It no longer assists me.

Mother is saddened by this. But she understands.

Kingu is in a tough spot right now. It wishes to make friends. Mother thinks Ģ̵̤̝͔̯̣̣̖͇̜̙̼̙̉͜ì̸̛̬̝̓̎͌͒̒͆̓̃̿͛͗̌̀l̸̹̟̮͓̫͙̓͜g̵̥̮͙̳͙̤͇͕̽̅a̶̛̳̬͋͒̓͘͝m̴̮̳̻͙͖̜͛̋̒̌͛̍ȩ̵̭̟̭͖̽̀̀͗̄́͛́̓́̉͘s̸̱̬̓́h̴̹̹͎͉̘̭̻̱̣̗̭̯̏̈́̄̈́͗͐͆̆̇̋̎̒͗͝͝ Ninsun's child will be able to help.

Entry 19.

Little Ana has returned before Mother. She assumes the name of Gorgon. She says a farewell in solemnity.

It makes Mother sad. But she understands why Little Ana does so.

However she hurt Mother. She hurt her quite a bit. Mother has to continue walking.. A shame. And her horn hurts..

That pesky little future-child. She sees him. And Ninsun's boy. How easy it would be to..

Ah. As expected, little Gil helped future-child evade expertly! Ninsun must be proud..

Where is Ninsun.. ?

Hmm. Where is Mother? This is Uruk. But it cannot be. However it must be.

Mother's head hurts.

Mother feels the rumbling deep below.. Little Kingu returned.. And Ishtar.. Hmm. Since Ishtar is already so close to Mother, she must be ready for her discipline.

That is okay.

Mother has forgiven her.. Oh.

Kingu, why have you restrained Mother?

Why?

Why are you doing this?

Even you. Even after I forgave you.. ?

Entry 20.

Mother had a little fall. But she is okay.

Ereshkigal has started an attack upon me. With the help of that strange flower-magician, and that little shield child.

Mother hurts.

She will fly.. She will return to the world.

The words of a creature, skeletal. Beyond it's mask.. Mother dreads.

That which she fears.

Words, forgotten. Why must I hurt so?

ENTRY 21

The kind words of another of my children. A brilliant son- rather, a brilliant shining sun..

Yes.. perhaps..

Perhaps this is okay.

ENTRY 22

"Aaaaa… Aaaaaa… AaaAaAaAaaa.." (Servant, Alter Ego. I am at your behest.. Son o' mine..)


	4. Guns and Roses

**Entry #8 **

Ishtar, the Mesopotamian goddess of war, of lust, and known as the Queen of Heaven. In essentials, a spoiled brat. I strongly dislike people of her kind - red demons who couldn't care less for other people's feelings. She seems to enjoy talking with my non-Altered self along with the girl with the sword, Saber. Even then, her eyes often flick over to me, something akin to sadness or pity in them. Sometimes, those eyes flicker, and the crimson within is replaced by a sapphire blue. But by the time I blink, it is gone. How peculiar.

**Entry #9 **

I am starting to lose more. My sense of touch has dulled ever since my body has begun its slow change into becoming a true weapon, but it has progressed to the point where I can no longer feel pain. Today, I had been in the kitchen until I smelled burning flesh, with other Servants turning to look at me with horror. It turned out that I had rested my hand on a hot plate without realizing it. Immediate first aid was applied, but it appears as if Master wants me to stay at Chaldea for a few days until it heals.

**Entry #10 **

The child Servants approached me, inquiring if I was a hero of justice. The question was seemingly founded off a superhero show that they had just watched. I found that the response did not come as easily as I wished. The answer should be obvious - I am no hero. I killed, killed, killed, killed until my hands were drenched in blood and my body broke under the weight of my own sins. I am naught but a weapon to be used, a tool summoned by the mad dog Alaya to take care of any threat. It is all for the good of humanity.

**Entry #11 **

Kiara Sessyoin. An Alter Ego-classed Servant. The mere sight of her irritates me in a way no other can. A woman who supposedly reached the pinnacle of salvation and attempted to take over the world through corrupting the Moon Cell. At least, that was in this world. I recall it all. I remember it. Never, even if Alaya breaks my body, even if the fires of hell scorch this disgusting figure of mine, will I forget that sight.

Of blood.

Of children's bodies broken, stacked upon each other as if they were merely animals exterminated.

Of people bleeding onto white ground, like roses upon snow.

Never.

**Entry #12 **

I seem to keep finding Sitonai or Ishtar at every corner I turn. Every time they see me, they force their lips into a smile. The brittleness of it is painfully obvious. Neither of them ever attempt to make conversation with me, but this is not something I mind. An uncomfortable weight sits in my stomach when their eyes meet mine. Perhaps it is the obligation that seems to hang over them, like a poison spread throughout the air. The same is true for the Lancer-class Servant that had just been summoned, Jaguar Man. An avatar of sorts of the ancient Aztec god and rival of Quetzalcoatl, Tezcatlipoca. I do not remember a smile as bright and wide as the sun.

**Entry #13**  
Amnesia is progressing faster. I find myself forgetting things too often. If I do not have a hold on my mind like a vice grip, things slip away in between my fingers. I can feel it. The loss of everything deemed not important. It is like snakes of electricity wriggling through my ears into my brain, ripping out everything and anything they come into contact with. I cannot hold events in my mind unless I concentrate on them. Only pain or the utmost concentration can preserve my memories. Unless I consciously focus my mind, this body's mind will disappear.

**Entry #14 **

Today, an unknown being, an Alter Ego-class alternate form of the Servant Artoria Pendragon approached me. Her unworldly green eyes had some familiarity to me upon first gaze, but I did not recall a shine such as those. She seemed to enjoy sitting beside me during meal times in the cafeteria. How interesting, two broken versions of their original selves sitting down to have lunch together. Upon questioning, it appears that her preferred name is Goddess Rhongomyniad. However, her expression, although deadpan, seemed downtrodden once I inquired her name. Perhaps I knew her.

**Entry #15**

I find that I am referring to this diary more and more often than I would like to admit. It appears as though my guess was correct - I did in fact engage in conversation with Rhongomyniad in the past. I find that her company is… familiar? There are faint memories of a small girl with the appetite of a lion. However, they cannot be the same. This Goddess Rhongomyniad is a Divine Spirit, and she was naught but a Servant.

I should not be wasting space for useless sentimentalities.


End file.
